


Pockets

by JoKessho



Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, kind of maybe unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoKessho/pseuds/JoKessho
Summary: A short little drabble about hand-holding. TaiYama-ish





	Pockets

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am again with a pointless, very short drabble. This concept has been bugging me for a while, now, so I decided to write it out.

My hand itched to hold his. But I held back from doing so. I wasn’t appropriate.

Sure, we’ve held hands before. Quite a few times, actually… But there was always a valid reason for that.

For example, that time on File Island, when we had all been separated, then the two of us reunited. I still remember, clear as day, the joy that shone in his eyes when he saw me. I’m sure my eyes were alight with that same happiness.

Not long after that was more of an accident or, rather, a necessity; we were hanging from the branch for our lives. The words: ‘I won’t let go; even if we end up dying’ echoed around my head. Cursed words? Blessed words? Thought-out words? Spontaneous words? I don’t know anymore…

Then there was the whole thing with the arrows. The prompt that time had been fear. Fear that we would run away if we didn’t hold onto each other. I was terrified of being shot, but his hand made it bearable; it gave me the courage to stand my ground.

So, yes, we’ve held hands, but there was a time and place for it to be acceptable. It wouldn’t be in a casual setting, like walking down a street or along the shoreline or at a coffee shop. No, that wouldn’t be appropriate at all.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about appropriateness on a societal level; I’m talking about it on a level of: he would deck me if I held his hand casually. I’m sure he would. He might be confused at first, but, upon realising why I was doing it, he would get mad and punch me.

The itch was back; the memories had tided me over for a while, but it just wasn’t the same as actually touching his hand with mine. I wanted to reach for his hand. But I held back from doing so.

My fingers twitched towards him, but I was quick to shove them into my pockets.

I suppose I had always had a habit of keeping my hands in my pockets; it was a way of hiding, I guess. Now, though, the placement of my hands was more strategic: it stopped me from reaching out and actually grabbing Taichi’s hand with mine.


End file.
